


sharing is daring

by TheDragonLover



Series: Tumblr Requests [11]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Gen, Horrortale Papyrus (Undertale), Horrortale Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, first attempt at this AU so I hope it's decent, reader is also big on baking, reader's gender is ambiguous, written for request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18284288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragonLover/pseuds/TheDragonLover
Summary: It's not easy for the ravenous monsters to adjust, once they're on the surface. It's not easy to befriend them, either. But you didn't have to know each other to be kind.--For a request to write in Horrortale, with a paranoid and semi-possessive Sans and a sweetheart Papyrus, and a human that keeps trying anyway.





	sharing is daring

.

The first time you brought some leftover food to your neighbors’ place, you’d been a little hesitant. After all, you’d heard the stories. You’d seen some of the other monsters. You were glad they weren’t imprisoned anymore, but you worried about how they were going to fit in with humans on the surface. People weren’t always kind or accepting of the strange or horrifying.

But, you were bringing some cake, because your folks had come over to visit and politely declined to take the rest home. You knew you couldn’t eat it all yourself. Might as well share, right? On the way, you even managed to give a slice to Ms. Tucket down the hall.

The moment they opened their door, however—and that took quite a bit of standing there, debating on whether to keep trying or to leave the container there—you had to muster your courage. It was hard to find something to look at without staring. This skeleton, which of  _course_  it was a skeleton, had cracks and holes and a jacket stained by what you hoped was very old blood. He was about your height, but appeared taller through presence alone. The smile on his face was eerie, and definitely not genuine.

You felt like prey.

But then his (much,  _much_  taller) brother had come over, introduced himself as Papyrus and the other as Sans, and gratefully accepted the food gift. He’d actually looked like he might start crying. His teeth were crooked, and before he’d opened his mouth you’d been a little spooked by him too. But the moment he started to gush about the cake’s decorations, with a faint lisp and some stammering, your heart had melted. This boy. Who could fear him?

You mentioned that you always gave your neighbors leftovers you knew you wouldn’t eat.  _Waste not, want not._  Though Sans seemed to hate you more with every passing second, Papyrus gave you a gentle handshake and asked if you could teach him.

You would’ve loved to!

…but when Papyrus had gone to put the cake on the table, his brother made it  _very_  clear that you weren’t welcome here. He didn’t trust you, or any of the other humans around here. And if he caught you near his brother again, you were going to  _pay._

You gave a hasty goodbye and strode back home, though the feeling of a gaze burning into your back never left. You shook as you poured yourself a glass of water.

* * *

But, when had scary people ever stopped you from showing kindness?

Maybe Sans was insulted by your gesture. But you didn’t mean it as taking pity on them in some self-righteous manner. Or at least, you didn’t think you did. You offered other humans just the same. Ms. Tucket in particular swore your lemon bars were the best she’d ever tasted. You always made sure to bake an extra large batch so you could give her a container.

So. You didn’t stop bringing the skeletons food.

The second time Sans had opened the door, his expression had almost made you regret being stubborn. But you held out the lemon bars and told him that, whether they ate it or not, you had extra and you didn’t have enough stomach to hold them all.

You weren’t completely surprised when he grinned and told you that, “If you had fallen into the Underground, you wouldn’t have the stomach  _there,_  either.” He shut the door in your face, nearly making you drop the bars. You left them there, and didn’t bother going back for the tupperware.

You imagined Ms. Tucket going ballistic if she even thought someone had wasted your lemon bars and had a good laugh.

The door remained stubbornly closed the next few times you came by, so you left the cinnamon buns (and muffins, and peanut butter cookies) on the ground after standing there for half an hour. Each one was left with the recipe, and a little sticky note saying to reheat for extra tastiness. You wondered what they did for a living. You wondered if Sans kept Papyrus from answering. Should you be offended if he did?

In the end, you decided it didn’t matter. If someone else might enjoy your leftovers, that was fine. If they tossed it, that was their choice, but at least you had made the offer.

One day you had a bit of an accident on your way up the stairs. Your palm was a bit roughed up, but you were more concerned about the slice of red velvet cake you’d been bringing special for Papyrus. (Since Sans didn’t seem to like your baking.) You had thought the container was secure! Yet now it was smooshed into the carpet, and Samantha (maintenance crew) just  _had_  to witness it.

You tried in vain to clean it up, before she finally shooed you away. She thought it was absolutely hilarious. Now every time she saw you, she called you Red Velvet. Threatening to cut her off from your snickerdoodles did nothing, because she knew you would end up giving them to her anyway. Which was cheating.

* * *

You tried again for probably the thirtieth time, this time with some ice cream cake.  _Have to hurry, or it’ll melt before they even get to look at it!_  Barely avoiding a tumble, you knocked on their door, calling for someone to get it from you.

“If you don’t open up, you’re going to step into soggy cake later—”

To be honest, you hadn’t expected them to answer this time. But there Sans stood. His sockets were devoid of all light or life. He leaned in, grin suggesting he relished your step back.

“ _I’ve stepped in worse._ ”

You swallowed. “Good to know?”

“Why won’t you leave us alone?”

“I bring the entire complex—”

“ _That’s not what I asked._ ”

Taking a deep breath, you told him honestly, “Because your brother looked so excited to bake.” The mention of Papyrus made the skeleton twitch. You hadn’t been able to help the curiosity. “Has he tried any of the recipes yet?”

Sans hadn’t answered you, but he hadn’t really gotten the chance to, as his brother himself called from inside. So he snatched the tupperware, threatened you again, and slammed the door in your face… again.

“…well, I guess I can’t blame him,” you muttered, staring at the big 1C engraved in their door. “…still.”

On your way back to your room, you tried to hide the sting of rejection when Ms. Tucket stopped you. She had a request for your “amazing baking skills.” You accepted, because of course you did. It was a lot of baking, but that was only a bonus in your eyes. You poured your heart out into your baking.

You hoped it showed.

* * *

One day there was a knocking on  _your_  door. Expecting Ms. Tucket or maintenance, you had been surprised to find a tall skeleton on the other side.

“Hello again, human! I am glad to have f-finally found your residence! The elderly human was very nice in pointing me in the right direction!”

A bit alarmed, you glanced around, expecting Sans. But you couldn’t find him. “Um… where’s your brother?”

“He’s probably working at the—at the! …uh. That is…”

Papyrus had become rather lost. He didn’t have eyes, but you felt they’d cross from thinking too hard and coming up short. He stared over your shoulder. You finally tapped his hand.

“He’s probably working,” he finished simply. The way he beamed made you think he might not know how his brother had treated you. You didn’t have the heart to tell him. But, you also didn’t want to suffer Sans’ wrath.

“Well, uh, whatcha need?”

He somehow became even brighter. The crooked teeth didn’t detract from the warmth he radiated as he pulled a container out from behind him. “Ta-dah! The Great Papyrus has brought  _the baker_ some baking! Nyeh! Heh!”

“Oh, wow.” You were surprised by Papyrus’ generosity, contrasting sharply to Sans’ suspicion. Lifting the lid proved even  _more_  surprising, as you finally got a whiff of the burnt goods. And… were those eggshells? Had he crumbled them on top? “Oh,  _wow._ ”

“Nyeh! Heh! No need to th-thank me!”

“Papyrus, did you… never mind.” It would be rude to ask if he’d read the recipe. Of course he did. Maybe your instructions should’ve been more specific. Well, he looked so proud of his handiwork… maybe they weren’t so bad?

A muffin cracked when you took it out of the pan. Hrm. Trying to keep a smile on your face, you took a bite… gradually. It withstood quite the force from your jaw before you got through the crunchy shell. Beneath it was a raw center.  _Oh boy._

Deciding there might be a culture difference, you forced yourself to swallow it—hoping you wouldn’t get sick—and asked, “Is… this your first time baking?”

“Yes! …what do you think?”

On one hand, you wanted to smile and tell Papyrus they were great. He was so proud! But it would be cruel to lie to him. So you admitted, “They’re a bit… undercooked  _and_  overcooked. Did you put them in at 400 degrees for about twenty-five minutes?”

“Yes!” He paused. “Wait. No! I put them in at 450 degrees for eighteen-and-three-quarter minutes! They were done much quicker!”

Ah. That explained it. He wanted it done a quarter faster, so he made it a quarter hotter. Gently, you told him, “You did some great math, but—I’m sorry, you can’t speed up the baking process like that.”

Slowly, his head tilted. “Turning up the heat doesn’t turn up the flavor?”

You had to hold back a laugh.  _Never heard THAT one before._  “No, not always. Baking can be kind of finicky already. I can show you what I mean—”

“Oh! That’s a wonderful idea!” Papyrus puffed up slightly. “I’ve been wanting t-to see how humans bake!” Replacing your partial muffin in the tray, Papyrus covered it once more.

You looked behind you, and debated. After a few moments, you told him, “Maybe you should tell your brother first. And, actually… maybe we should do it at your place? I don’t know how he might feel about you in a stranger’s home. At least if you’re at  _your_  home, he’ll know where you are.” You could end up regretting it, but hey, your parents always said your kindness might get you killed.

“Oh! Then he can come home to a  _new_  Great Papyrus masterpiece!”

You hoped the worst that would happen would be getting kicked out of there.

* * *

As expected, you had received a glare that could curdle milk. But Papyrus was soon in-between the two of you, showing off his latest batch of muffins. Of which he had made three, under your guidance. You even got some of your own groceries, when he wanted to keep baking. His eagerness to learn was invigorating, even if he tired out easily. He spaced out far less with you to ground him, and you repeated yourself or spoke slower if he didn’t understand you.

His favorite part was picking out the flavors. The tastes might have been eccentric, but trying new things broadened your taste buds, right? So you hadn’t told him no when he suggested blueberry pineapple apple muffins, or lemon almond cinnamon muffins—or for the last batch, which he offered to Sans now.

The shorter skeleton eyed the tray. “…see you’ve made yourself at home, human.”

“Sans,” his brother cut in as you shivered, “you won’t believe it! I have mastered the art of baking! Muffins cook better when they’re cooked more slowly. Patience is a v-virtue! Which I, The Great Papyrus, obviously have!”

“Waiting is the worst part,” you admitted, trying to focus on Papyrus. He was positively radiant. You might’ve had a large smile on your face. “But once it’s done, you can enjoy the fruits of your labor!”

“And the muffins of your neighbor!” You choked back a laugh. Was that a joke, or did he mishear you? He took one, as Sans still hadn’t tried any, and handed it to you. “Here, enjoy your labor!”

But you held up a palm. “Sorry, Papyrus, I can’t have it.”

Sans twitched at your refusal. “Why’s that,  _buddy?_ ” Yeesh, save you from overprotective brothers!

“I’m allergic to coconut.” Papyrus tilted his head, so you elaborated, “If I eat it, I could have a bad reaction to it.”

“Like gas?”

“Like death,” Sans answered for you. You didn’t particularly care for the way he looked at you when he said that. Were the lights in his sockets red now? If anyone asked, it was just a bit cold in here.

“Ahhh!” The other rather dramatically snatched the tray away from you, holding it over his head. “Stay back, human! I will protect you! You will not d-d-die!” You tried to calm him down, not wanting him to get—well, maybe “out of breath” wasn’t the right way to put it.

Like a shadow, Sans was at his brother’s back. One socket was still trained on you. “You must really have a death wish, to be cooking that with my brother.” He was casually flipping one of the kitchen knives, catching it by the handle.

“Why did you have coconut flour in your kitchen?!”

“Some recipes prefer it. I have every container at home labeled. Don’t worry, I’m extra careful.”

You didn’t understand how skeletons could shift and mold bone to make expressions. Sans was  _squinting_  at you. Actually,  _both_  of them were, although for very different reasons. You couldn’t get a good read on either of them.

“…well!” The exclamation made you jump. Papyrus put the muffin tray on top of the fridge for now, as if he thought they would attack you otherwise. “I will devour each and every single one for you instead!”

“Don’t make yourself sick.” Wait, could they get sick? You still weren’t sure how monster biology worked. Still, you wanted to be careful. “Eat carefully—and don’t overeat either. They can last you a couple of days.”

“We know how to make food last,” Sans muttered. He pointed at you with the knife, teeth and steel glinting. “Almost time for dinner. Wanna join us for a bite?”

Oh you most certainly did not. Papyrus was sweet and fun. Sans was… not. You also had some thawed chicken at home to tend to. But the taller skeleton was already offering to find his best cookbook to treat you. You had to answer fast.

“Maybe another time?” You hated to decline, especially because he slouched so completely. With how tall and lanky he was, it gave him the appearance of a puppet that had been dropped. It looked wrong. He was anything but lifeless. So, you followed up with a, “How about Sunday? I’m off of work, and it gives you plenty of time to pick the best recipe.”

And maybe Sans would be a bit better with some time to prepare and get used to the idea.

“Yes!” Papyrus was back to normal. He wrapped you into a big, kind of painful hug. Clearly, your assumption that he was fragile was completely off-base. “It will be the  _greatest_  of dinners!”

Laughter bubbled forth, and you told him honestly, “I can’t wait!”

* * *

Saturday afternoon was a rare spot of peace in a busy day. You actually got to sit down and relax for once. Life could be busy and hectic, so you needed moments like these to remind you what was worth slowing down for.

Which was why it was such a shame when the fire alarm went off for the building. After helping Ms. Tucket outside, you stood and talked with your neighbors to figure out what was going on. By the time the fire department showed up, it became clear it was something from the first floor. It wasn’t until you saw the skeleton brothers that you remembered they lived in 1C. You made your way over, worried by Papyrus’ expression. He brightened when you got to them. Sans’ smile grew sour.

“Ah! Human! I didn’t know we had a flyer alarm!”

“A fire alarm,” you corrected. Seeing some dark smudges on his skull, you asked, “Are you two okay? Was the fire near you guys?”

“Nah, not really.” Sans watched the relief flood your expression, before he continued, “It was only in our kitchen.”

“ _What?_ ” When he started laughing, you turned to Papyrus. “What happened?”

Each time he puffed out his chest, he towered over everyone like a sunflower. “I was getting ready for our best dinner before you came over! Then the oil caught fire, and s-something started to make a loud beeping noise in our home! I opened the door to let out the smoke, and then there was more beeping!”

Your best dinner? You had thought it was Sunday, not Saturday… A quick check of your phone proved you weren’t confused. You had definitely told him Sunday.  _Oh, he must’ve gotten the dates mixed up._

“And now we all have some time to kill,” Sans finished. He really loved his  _killer jokes._

Well, it didn’t matter now. The firefighters eventually allowed everyone back inside. After asking about the state of their kitchen (read: awful), you had decided that you could have a pre-best-dinner dinner at your place, Sans permitting. When you presented the idea, even the scariest glare from him couldn’t beat out the joy on Papyrus’ face. He relented.

“Your place is very nice, human!”

Eventually you were going to get both of them to use your actual name. For now, you were all right with them poking around your (admittedly kinda messy) kitchen and living room. Sans found the labeled flour containers, tapping on the coconut. Papyrus dragged him away to ooh and ah over your utensils. For dinner, you started an extra large pot of macaroni and cheese. It wasn’t a gourmet meal. But after asking for their input and about what they could, couldn’t, would and wouldn’t eat, you had some ideas for the next time they came over.

And there would be many next times, because as long as Sans was over he was content to give you creepy stares while you enjoyed Papyrus’ company. That, you could live with.

* * *

A pounding on your door had you fumbling with a pan and shouting, “Hold on!” You wondered if Ms. Tucket needed help with her groceries, or if one of your friends was by to visit. You set aside the stir-fry to answer it quickly. Surprise! It  _was_  a friend! Papyrus! And Sans was there too.

“Hello, human! We come, bearing gifts! Nyeh! Heh!” He held out a container of cupcakes, decorated with flowers and hearts. They were positively the cutest, happiest cupcakes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh, wow!” And this time, you had no fears with taking a bite out of one, because Papyrus had  _greatly_  improved with some guidance. “These are delicious, Papyrus!”

“Nyeh! I, the Great Papyrus, am now a master baker! Sans helped with the icing.”

You eyed the other skeleton, a little surprised. He had willingly helped in making a gift for you?  _Papyrus can convince him to do ANYTHING._

“And, that’s not all! Nyeh! Heh! Heh!” Papyrus stood there for a few beats, looking rather proud… then he deflated a little, glancing at his brother. “… _Sans. SANS._ ”

“Oh, yeah. Heh. Almost forgot.” He pulled out some plastic containers from behind his back. Empty ones. You were confused until you recognized the one that was always slightly from spices. Those were yours!

“The point is, we  _didn’t_  forget! This time!” It was something he had wanted to do every time they came over, but forgot and lamented until you assured him it was fine. “I told the calendar to tell me to bring them today!”

He had made a note to remember? You were so glad the calendar was working well for him. Accepting the containers, you examined how pristine they were as Papyrus put the cupcakes on the table. Not a speck of dirt or food. And they were all neatly stacked. Your heart warmed from the kindness. How often did people bring  _you_  things?

“Now! I must be off!”

You glanced up, surprised at the short visit. “Oh? Okay.”

“The nice old human asked me to help her cook lunch,” he explained. It was probably Ms. Tucket. He was clearly ecstatic to be asked to help, especially with cooking. “But I can come back to help you with dinner!”

“That would be great—I’m baking with spaghetti squash tonight!”

He gasped. “Spaghetti wash? I can clean the noodles expertly! Nyeh! Heh! Heh heh!” You didn’t bother to correct him before he ran off, though you did ask that he be careful.

You only realized Sans was still there when he spoke up from the kitchen. “Making something?”

The stirfry was ready, and you offered him some. It was the first thing you did when someone was here and you had extra. You thought he might refuse, but he actually sat at your table. Maybe his pride couldn’t beat manners. Or maybe it was another cultural thing. The silence was awkwardly broken by the clink of plates and utensils, and his sockets were on you the whole time. But when you sat across from him, he turned his attention to his plate and dug in.

When he caught you smiling, he froze. “…what’s  _eating_  you?”

“Sorry, I just—I’m happy when people enjoy my cooking.” Glancing at the pan, you asked him, “Do you think Papyrus would like some, too?”  
  
“Nah. He can have some of mine.” And he set the plate aside, having eaten what might have been exactly half of it. You tried not to wince when he started scratching at the hole in his skull.

“There’s plenty more in the—”

“I know.”

Well then. You didn’t want to be rude and stare, so you helped yourself before your plate got cold. It felt strange to have Sans watch you eat, still clearly hungry yet restraining himself for some reason. But you weren’t going to push him. This entire situation was bizarre, because it had never been Sans alone in your house. You almost felt on edge, but mostly you were puzzled.

“…I don’t trust easily.”

Without any sarcasm, you replied, “I figured.” You truly couldn’t blame him, after what he and his brother must have gone through.

“I don’t trust you.”

You had figured that out, too.

Was he supposed to be able to dig into his own skull? You wanted to take it out. But you didn’t want to invade his personal space.

“Papyrus still, even after…” He doesn’t really laugh, just gives a short huff. Somehow, without lungs. “He still trusts too much. He trusts you.” You didn’t know if he wanted input, so you kept quiet. His sockets were dim, giving him a far-off look. “I don’t know how he does it.”

You thought of how Papyrus had let you show him how to floss his teeth the other day. It was a silly, yet kind of intimate gesture, you realized now. The two of them had been in your house so often that now your first meeting feels like months ago instead of weeks. While Sans sometimes made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t to the same degree anymore. And Papyrus only grew more endearing the more time you spent with him.

“…why do nice things for monsters like us?”

You had no idea what he meant by “like us.” Well, not entirely. Sans might have a dark sense of humor, but so did some humans you knew. The both of them might have done horrible things. But their situation hadn’t exactly been black-and-white. They had clearly suffered. Now they were here, in this complex. There were times where they seemed a bit… lost. Their minds got fuzzy. Papyrus forgot or misinterpreted things. Sans twitched and scratched. But, they were your neighbors. Just like Ms. Tucket, and the maintenance lady who called you Red Velvet. You treated them just the same: To sweets and treats, with an eye kept on their health and well-being.

You tried to word this in a way that made sense, but you knew your own thoughts could get a bit jumbled.

“I guess I just… I think it comes to me naturally, to want to give others things. If I have something I don’t need, why not give it to someone who might?”

The skeleton didn’t budge, watching you. “Must be nice to get recognition.”

“That’s not… it’s  _nice,_  but… Okay. How did my dad put it?” You rubbed at your temple, trying to remember how he had worded your feelings years ago. “You don’t give gifts to get a thank you. Then it’s not  _giving,_  it’s a transaction. Thank yous are nice when they aren’t an obligation. Gifts, too.”

You took a good look at Sans, suddenly wondering when the last time he had gotten a gift was. Not your leftovers, but a gift proper. Were either of them used to receiving anything?

His expression twitched, breaking your concentration on his smile. “Yeah. Right. Sounds nice and pretty.” His tone suggested he still doubted you.

“Sometimes the truth is nice. And sometimes it sounds mean,” you admitted, “because saying a pretty lie would seem nicer.” Like Papyrus’ first under-and-overcooked muffins. “But, anyway. What I’m saying is, I give things because I want to, and if you don’t want it then that’s okay too. I just, like to offer.”

There was a pause, but it wasn’t nearly as awkward as before. Probably because you had a better idea of what Sans was thinking about. He seemed to mull over your words, letting you finish the rest of your food. You grabbed a container for the leftovers and set it in front of Sans. He grinned.

“What if I just left that here?”

_Figures._  “Then I’d check on someone else. Ms. Tucket probably has plenty of food with Papyrus’ help but, maybe Samantha in 1F.”

He surprised you when he asked, “That maintenance lady? She likes to call me Ketchup.”

“…ketchup?” He tugged on his stained sleeve until you understood. “Oh. …she calls me Red Velvet.” He didn’t have eyebrows, but you could feel him lift one. So despite your better judgment you tell him the story, even though with your luck he’d just lord it over you. It got a chuckle out of him, despite the clear waste of food.

You wondered… were you friends now? Would he stop hovering whenever you were around Papyrus? Actually, his brother was in another human’s apartment right now, and he was sitting with you just chatting. You felt like something momentous was occurring tonight.

Sans leaned against the table, smile just a little less forced.

“So. What’s your name, kid?”

.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend on tumblr, who wanted to see me write for Horrortale. Thank you, lovely! Maybe I'll try my hand at this AU again in the future!
> 
> If you want to put in a request for more of this (or with different characters), or for something new, throw an ask at my writing blog, @thatdragonsdrabbles.


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